There are times when I just wanted to freeze time itself, borrow someone else’s videocam and shoot from the beginning. I’m not yet old, but now I feel so. With the Harry Potter movie series to end next year, it’s like a lifetime– a good chunk of my lifetime– raced past me. And this is coming from someone who’s not a fan of that lightning scar. I think I’m missing a lot: Movies, books, history, people, music, myself.
See, I’m basically an employed young, urban, non-professional who has a degree. I am one of the hundreds of millions in this country who just wanted to have an average sustainable living. Nice house, well-rounded family, chock-full appointment list for singles, non-sputtering car, pet/s optional. That’s it. I can be the president of this country but I know I’d just contribute to the body count, so it’s better to defer. For now, I have to pay some bills, ride the train, wake myself up and try to be independent.
Before that, I was in college struggling to pass some thesis paper that practically exorcised the crammer in me. I was in a university which was contradictory by itself. I had my blockmates who shifted out of mass communication because they thought they’d never get rich. I had strangers who shifted to mass communication because they’d thought they’re going to be popular and lead a glamorous life. I had professors who taught me how to be ethical; there were those who taught me to know what’s corrupt and stir my conscience to decide for myself on ethics; there were those who taught like a Hitler-possessed cartoon character; there were those teachers who don’t teach… They just don’t.
Briefly before that, I was starting college. My intelligence and friendliness were inversely proportional. I was friendly. In fact, too friendly. And also, may I be blunt to say that I was as well, stupid. I had grades which were literally unspeakable. My grades in arithmetic, the natural sciences, even crappy creative writing, were so unspeakable my tonsils perform cramps when I am asked about them.
Months before that, I was in high school. I was clasped on steel Catholic beliefs I almost didn’t believe Darwinism. For the most part, mathematics hated me with no relent. (Maybe in my past life, I used to ridicule Pythagoras and the abstract-minded-cum-rational likes.) My ~teachers weren’t teachers. They were people who were too vain to function that they had concluded to call themselves teachers. I was also a Disney devotee. S Club 7, That’s So Raven, Brenda Wong, Even Stevens, Phil of the Future, Lizzie McGuire… they formed my endocrine system. I also learned how to drive at 15. My dad and I became much closer and I finally resolved to dealing with my ~daddy-issues. I resolved to writing in the school paper, joining the pathetic marching band, and falling in absurd, puppy love.
Before that, I was in grade school– strangled (well, not really) by my mom just to make it to the honors list. I slept in the hour when everybody else has finished counting their leaping sheep and even octopi. There were Pikachu, and X-Men Evolution, Bulbasaur, Team Rocket, Ghost Fighter, Detective Conan, Flame of Recca, Raichu, more and more Pikachu, Digimons–which were too ugly they should rather work in Monsters Inc. That time, I had my bag with wheels. My videotape-sized pencil case was so innovative the creator must have had come from the future. It had a thermometer, measuring tape and sharpener. But see, everyone also had it.
A little before that, I was learning how to color with crayons. My lola was still alive then as she taught me how to be the best in what I like best: The Arts. I had a lot of spelling, writing and coloring books but no flash cards nearby at all. She used to be my only friend when my mom used to go to school, and my dad was living away. My name was one of her last words before she died, and up until high school, I wasn’t aware of that fact. My problems ranged from what to eat for lunch and what to eat for merienda and so on. I didn’t know how to light a lighter, I was incapable of whistling, I was crying in Lion King, I was terribly an innocently clumsy, credulous brat who spent most of his time reading encyclopedias.
Before that, it was so simple.